


we've passed the end, so we chase forever

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [78]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, M/M, Mention of Hanukkah, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: "he can have this even though it is not love."





	

**Author's Note:**

> for myself, because 17th December is my birthday and I want to write something soft for Webster and Liebgott.
> 
> this has been beta-read by the lovely [Natalie](http://merriellshelton.tumblr.com/). all mistakes are mine.

 

* * *

 

 

 “You know,” Lieb whispers, his sleepy soft voice sounding loud in the small room, “according to Jewish religious law, you’re technically married to a person once you have sex with them.”

Web blinks his eyes slowly, and the hand in Lieb’s sweaty hair stills. He wishes the room was not engulfed in pitch darkness because he wants to look at Lieb’s face to gauge his expression. His hand moves again, caressing Lieb’s forehead before he rests it on the side of Lieb’s cheek. “How many people have you been technically married to?”

The question is uttered in a gentle tone but it still sounds harsh, making him regret it instantly when it comes out from his mouth. Instead of getting angry like he’s expecting, Lieb actually chuckles. “Three if I count you.”

“Only three?” Web asks again, feeling the guilt in his belly dissipate. “I thought there would be more.”

“Well the war happened and I didn’t exactly plan to fuck my way through Europe,” Lieb snorts, pressing his face unto Web’s palm and kissing the rough skin lightly.

“But you fucked me through Europe,” Web murmurs. The bed creaks when he moves to wrap his arm around Lieb’s lithe back.

“I still am,” Lieb says, peppering Web’s neck and collarbone with dry kisses, the quiet sound of skin being kissed is audible. “I don’t think I want to do it with anyone else.”

Web inhales sharply, fingers gripping Lieb’s hip firmly, because in his ears those words sound like a promise of something more. They’ve been doing this _thing_ for years now after the war ended. After they were shepherded into the ship to be sent home only to lose their way. It’s been two years and Lieb hasn’t been back to Frisco once, and Webster… is just plain lost with what he is supposed to be doing with his life. After Harvard, after a spectacular row with his father, he left New York. Travelled around the East Coast before deciding to go West and he didn’t expect anything honestly when he first came here. He didn’t even keep in touch with the other Easy guys but one day, one wrong turn had him smacked right into Joe Liebgott.

Or maybe it was a right turn because after that they sort of… fell together like they were back in Europe, traveling through Hagenau and Stuttgart; sharing smokes and knocking their knees together. Pretending to move because their butts were sore from sitting too long on the trucks but it was just a flimsy excuse for them to touch. And since the initial unexpected reunion there has been a lot of touching going on. Some days when Web is sitting at his desk, rapidly writing his news articles, memories from the previous nights will flash through his mind and his face will feel hot instantly.

Still.

He isn’t hoping for more from Lieb. He knows his place. He knows that they can’t ever have more because they are two men and even if he was a woman, it would still be impossible to be with Liebgott because he’s a gentile. It’s the raw truth that keeps his heart from breaking because there’s a boundary to whatever they have now. Even if the boundary hasn’t been set by anyone, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

And now.

There’s a promise of _more_.

To be quite honest, the prospect terrifies him. The promise of them being more than what they are now make him pull away from Lieb to look him into the eyes even though the room is dimmed and all he can see is the shadow of sharp, angular shapes of Lieb’s face. He wants to see Lieb’s eyes because here is a man who don’t make promises lightly, who speaks in riddles about things  he wants because he is too afraid to outrightly ask for them.

But Webster knows Liebgott.

He knows this man and the complexity of how his mind works, and he can decipher the meaning of casual words unlike other people. That’s why… that is why he knows what Lieb is saying even when he isn’t saying the exact words to ask for what he wants.

Webster places his hand on Lieb’s face again, cups the angular jawline and rubs the small tension in his muscle away. Liebgott is terrified too he can feel it from the way his muscles are in one taut line waiting to snap. He knows that he isn’t the only person feeling scared in the room although, it might be for entirely a different reason.

“Lieb,” Web breathes, “you’re not just saying it because you’re lonely, are you?”

He can’t see Lieb’s eyes, but he knows those brown eyes snap up to look at him and he can feel the heat of anger rolling to him in small waves. “What _am_ I saying, Web?”

Web exhales loudly, presses his nails against Lieb’s smooth jawline until the skin breaks into crescent shapes. He gulps down the hysterical laughter that tries to bubble its way out of his throat. It’s funny because he is a man who makes his living by using words freely, but in this moment he has to hold himself back. Afraid that whatever fragile bond they have now will snap.

“I think,” Web starts, his voice dropping low until it’s just a mere whisper, “you are missing home. You are missing something familiar to be in your life. I think you are lonely.”

Web pauses, waits for Lieb to push his hand away; waits for Lieb to deny his observation but nothing comes. So he continues. “I think you want to be with me because you don’t want to end up alone when in all honesty, you want to go back home to Frisco but you can’t because you are afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Lieb mumbles, equally soft yet strangely firm, and Web wishes for the umpteenth time that he can see the look on Lieb’s face.

“You are lonely then,” Web asks but it sounds more like a statement and Lieb presses his face against Web’s palm; nuzzling him, wanting more contact.

“Aren’t we all lonely?” Lieb murmurs gently, sounding so far away that Web has to strain his ears. “Aren’t you lonely too? Isn’t that the reason you left New York and came to Cali? Because no one in that goddamn city understood you?”

Web doesn’t reply because Lieb already knows the answer to that. There’s no point in denying the simple truth.

“You’re right though,” Lieb says. “I miss Ma but Frisco isn’t home anymore. Home is with y–.” Lieb stops abruptly and Web’s fingers trace patterns on Lieb’s back before pulling him even closer until they’re sharing a pillow.

“You’re awfully honest today,” Web observes. It’s not that Lieb lies but he’s definitely a man of a fewer words. He keeps people at arm’s length; he doesn’t like people to know what he thinks; he doesn’t want to divulge his inner thoughts; he doesn’t allow people to use that knowledge to hurt him.

“It’s Hanukkah,” Lieb replies simply, his breath warm on Web’s cheek. “I don’t lie on Hanukkah.”

Of course.

That explained the candle on the silver holder and Lieb being alone by the window; lighting said candle and murmuring blessing under his breath that Web vaguely understands because the words sound foreign to his ears.

“You can’t lie on Hanukkah?”

Lieb blinks and Web can feel his eyelashes brushing his skin and something in him warms up. “I can but Ma said not to do it. She told us that our blessings and prayers won’t be heard if we lie from the same mouth.”

“So you can’t help but being truthful?”

Lieb freezes and his spine goes rigid. He tries to pull away but Web holds on tighter; rolling his body so he’s on top of Lieb, caging him within his arms.

“Why?” Web asks simply, his heart is strangely at peace; a sense of calmness engulfs him. Ready for whatever answer that Lieb will give him. This time, in the dimness of the room, he can see Lieb’s face; see his lips being pulled into a thin line and Web leans down to peck at them softly. “Lieb?”

Lieb takes his time to respond. He raises his hand and buries his fingers into Web’s thick hair; curling his fingers around the strands gently as he contemplates, blunt nails raking through the hair at Web’s temple and curling around his ear.

“Because you’re the only person who understands me.”

Web tilts his head and studies Lieb’s expression. How he has his eyes closed even if Web cannot see them properly in the dark. How there’s a twist in his mouth like he’s in pain, and maybe he is for having to open up his thoughts like this; to feel vulnerable and prone to hurt. “No one else understands you?”

Lieb opens his eyes and stares back at Webster; his hand cups the impressive jawline, feeling the prickly sensation of his stubble. “They never bother to learn me unlike you.”

Web doesn’t answer; doesn’t know how to respond so he settles his body next to Lieb once again, facing him even when Lieb is staring at the low ceiling.

“You took your time to understand me even when I was not a willing subject,” Lieb keeps talking, as if he’s not afraid of anything anymore; as if he trusts Web enough not to hurt him with this new vulnerability. “You never shied away from my anger and no matter how much I pushed, you always came back.”

“You never push too far.”

“I push too much,” Lieb snaps, then he exhales shakily; rubs his face before turning to look at the man lying next to him; looking lax and comfortable and it’s the image that has been seared behind his eyelids because he keeps seeing it every night and every morning that he’s afraid he will not have it anymore one day. “I push and push until everyone is sick of it and leave. But you… you always come back. Either you’re a saint or you are a masochist.”

“Big word,” Web teases but his chest feels tight and warm from Lieb’s words. It’s not exactly a declaration of anything but it is _something_.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hate me after what I’ve done to you,” Lieb murmurs, fingers creeping closer to Web’s body,  and his palm feels cool when he rests it on Web’s chest. “I’ve said a lot of things to you. I… deliberately hurt you just because I was angry with everything.”

Web, in one swift movement, presses his palm against Lieb’s mouth; cutting him off from speaking; preventing the words from spilling out. Lieb grips his wrist, tries to pull it away but Web shushes him; shakes his head when Lieb glares at him.

“Joe, listen to me,” Web whispers harshly, and he takes hold of Lieb’s chin when he tries to hide his face. “Both of us did a lot of things and said too many careless words to hurt each other and yes, yes you hurt me. But listen, your anger, your frustration was expected. We were all angry and we did our best to channel it somewhere. Cobb drank himself to sleep. Luz gambled and made stupid puns. You… you got meaner and angrier and it’s unhealthy and it’s destructive. But that didn’t define you as a man.”

Lieb looks at him, eyes wide and glassy and Web pulls his hand away gently, caressing Lieb’s cheek before speaking again. “I never thought of you as a bad person. You’ve always been caring even though you show it by being gruff about it. But you care. You care so much that you end up hurting yourself and that’s why you lash back because you’re protecting yourself.” Web exhales and watches the soft rise and fall of Lieb’s chest. “Stop putting yourself down because of the mistakes you’ve made before. I’ve forgiven you otherwise we won’t be in this setting; naked and opening up our wounds to each other.”

Lieb snorts and it sounds wet and wobbly.

“Saint Webster,” Lieb says and Web grins because he can hear the grumble in Lieb’s tone.

“That’s King David for you,” Web replies, pulling Lieb near him again to share warmth; to have more contact because he is allowed to, because he can have this even though it is not love. Even though whatever they have now is stemmed from familiarity; from two lost men finding their way together when everyone has so readily turned their back on them.

But maybe that _is_ love.

Subtle, soft; nothing grand. Just two bodies writhing in pleasure, just two souls colliding together, just two hearts finally settling. Just them against the others despite the odds; despite their history. Just them living their life together, learning to understand each other beyond their hurts and their wounds.

Just Liebgott who is telling him about how King David was a writer too. Just Webster listening in rapture; asking Lieb to tell him more about Hanukkah and the good memories he has with his Ma and his siblings. Asking Lieb if it’s okay to be with him when he lights the second candle tomorrow night to which Lieb answers with a wide pleased grin; and extracting a promise for Lieb to make him latkes because he never had them before. Suggesting to Lieb that maybe it’s time to visit his Ma; even when Frisco is not home anymore and if Lieb burrows closer to ask Web to come with him, Web doesn’t say anything about it because they both know Webster will always chase after Liebgott no matter how far he goes.

They talk quietly, softly. And maybe to anyone else, what they have is not love; not in the traditional sense; but for Lieb and Web, with their foreheads pressing close, with their words being interrupted by soft brushes of lips against lips; breathy laughter and fleeting touches; this is love enough.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have reached this point, thank you so much for reading! kudos and comment are really much appreciated!


End file.
